Home Is Where the Heart Is
by Let Love In
Summary: “I… I don’t know, don’t you ever just get the feeling that you belong somewhere else?” he asked, almost pleading. “Don’t you ever just want to… leave?” AnnxKai, Secret Santa gift for Blue Cupcakes.


**A/N: Yayy, Blue Cupcakes! Here is your story! At first, I was a little panicked because the only games I've played with Ann have been HM 64 and Magical Melody! I had to do a lot of research to make this work out! And you asked for angst so... I give you angst. I hope it isn't a downer on your wonderful Christmas holiday. I hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas!**

It shouldn't have happened today. Not on a day like this, where the air is crisp and the leaves have already begun falling. And the mountaintop awaits my arrival, with flowers in my hand, ready to pay respects. I wake up this morning every year, the first day of fall, knowing what to expect. But today is different.

Today, I wanted nothing to do with him. He had been gone for at least a year now, and I didn't want to think of him today like I had every day since last fall. Today was not his day to take from me; it was my mother's.

The air had tickled my skin as I ventured to the mountaintop, a bouquet of poinsettias in my quivering palms.

Seven years.

I didn't cry. I set the flowers down next to the dead ones from the year previous, and I stared blankly. And I tried to picture my mother's face, but I could barely do that. All that was left of her in my memory was a silhouette, a pair of big eyes and nothing else. My stomach twisted dangerously.

Saying goodbye was always a hard thing for me to do, mostly because I hadn't even said goodbye to my mother when she was alive. But every year I headed to that mountaintop anyway, flowers in hand, and a feeling of perpetual grief in my chest.

I left with nothing more but a sigh and an unexplainable emptiness that shook me to the core. I was hollow; there was nothing left inside of me besides a weak-beating heart.

It wasn't until I saw that blinding purple bandana in the distance that I realized where the hollowness had come from. For a second, he looked pleased. That smug smile that I swear he had been born with rested contentedly on his face. But when I didn't return the grin, his face dropped.

And then I ran.

I didn't bother to look back and see if he was following me or not. I ran like there was a train right at my heels, not stopping for a breath until my lungs felt like they would rupture. Resting my hands on my knees, I let my orange braid sweep against my cheek and dangle in front of me. For a moment, I was in a trance, watching the braid swing to and fro before stopping. But then I turned abruptly, expecting to see that stupid, grinning face there.

But he was just a speck in the distance where I had left him.

I ran the rest of the way home. When my father, with the ever-present worried crease in his forehead, asked what was wrong, I simply shook my head. I couldn't even form a feasible sentence, let alone tell him what was wrong. So I ignored him and bolted up the stairs to my room, where I could be alone.

Why did he come back? I wanted so desperately to see him again, and smell that musty, sea-salt smell that oozed through his pores. I wanted to feel his sanded arm around my shoulder, draping so casually across my body like a sweater.

On the other hand, I wanted to strangle him.

Fitfully, I walked across my room, wondering so many things that could not be answered. But eventually my thoughts dissipated into a mist, and all I could think about was that smug smile.

I burst from my room, my face flushing crimson. I needed to know why. Why today? But by the time I got to my front door, I was frozen. My clammy fingers curled at the thought of his nonchalant response.

"I just needed a change of scenery," I pictured him saying. He was always so damn _satisfied_ with himself. No matter what he did, no matter how wrong, it was always regarded with a grin.

And now, with my hand perched on the doorknob, all I can think about was that last time I saw him. How his content look wasn't actually content at all… the way he grimaced when he saw me. I didn't know anything was wrong, at the time. I fully expected to wake up the next morning and head to the mountaintop just like every year on the first of fall. It wasn't anything new. He would always grasp my hand when we reached the cusp of the mountain; his wine-colored eyes would turn stoic. And we would wait there for what seemed like hours (but was only a few minutes), before turning to leave. It was one of two goodbyes I had grown accustomed to.

The walk home was always strange. I never liked to believe that he was going away until the spring, returning just as the baby flowers would emerge. I always figured that one of these years he would turn to me like he always did on my front door step, moments before leaving, and smile instead of frown. I wished he wouldn't pack his bags weeks before, as if dying to get out of here.

I wished that one of these days he'd give up his pride and stay with me.

I don't really know exactly what we were, or what we would become. There was no textbook definition for this sort of thing. We were straddling that fine line, looking out onto the breach between friendship and more-than-that. There were moments where calling each other "baby" and "honey" seemed so fitting, and then there were times where I just couldn't see myself holding his hand for the rest of my life.

Regardless, he was my best friend. And he left, like he did every year. But this time, he didn't come back.

_Why didn't he just come back_?

This is why I found myself face to face with his front door just moments later. I had to know, no matter how much it would sting. And almost as if he sensed it, he opened the front door without me even having to knock.

"Ann," he exhaled, letting my name out like it was a breath he had held for years. I allowed my shoulders slump a little bit, already feeling comforted just by the sound of my name on his lips. But then I shook my head; he left me. That wasn't something I could brush off my shoulders. "I, uh… how are you?"

The simplicity of this question almost made me laugh. "Fine."

He stared at me incredulously for a bit; he knew I was never one for short answers. But what else did he expect? I curled and uncurled my fists, wondering why I was here. I should have just ignored him and stayed in my room. Maybe he would have gone away for good, then.

"I… I thought you wouldn't come back." Like a hiccup, I hadn't meant for anything like that to come out of my mouth. But there it was, hanging out in the open air like a cloud over our heads.

"What would make you think that?" he asked, almost accusingly. Only he could make me feel bad about something like this.

"Well, you… you didn't, uh," I scrambled, my disheveled thoughts buzzing in the air like fireflies.

"Ann," he said once again, this time his voice much more controlled than before. And he gave me that signature look: head cocked to the side, eyes gleaming, lips curved into an amused grin. "Don't be silly, I wasn't gone too long."

And that was that.

I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly felt rather stupid for feeling so heartbroken over this. He had a point; he was only gone for two extra seasons. So why had I felt so lonely?

_Because he's your best friend_, I told myself. _But is it more than that?_

I shoved those thoughts back into the depths of my mind as the burning fire in his eyes ignited once again.

"Well hey, why don't you come in?" he asked, smiling at me like the conversation had always been this casual. So I did; he was back, after all.

"How was… this morning?" he asked, looking down at his hands. I shrugged, looking at those grubby fingers and wishing they were encased in mine.

"Fine," I lied, sitting down on his couch. He joined me a few moments later; my nostrils filled with the scent of the sea.

"How long has it been?" he asked, still refusing to look at me. Death was always a touchy subject with him. That's probably why we never talked about my mother, if only on this day.

"Seven years," I replied. "Feels like it was just yesterday."

He made a strange sound, a low humming in the back of his throat. And then he did something unexpected; he put his arm around my shoulder, further plunging me into the sea-salt smell of his skin. I was intoxicated.

"It gets easier with time," he told me, all-knowingly. And I believed him. There was something about his calm demeanor and simple answers that was just so comforting to me. So I let my head rest against his shoulder as his breathing slowed. Just like old times.

"Ann?" he said eventually, his voice cracking through the silence. "Can I be honest with you?"

I wiggled a bit, sitting up so I could look him in the eyes, but he was looking the other way. I sighed, running my fingers through my now-undone braid. "What is it?"

I don't know why, but I felt tense. Something about his face had changed; it was suddenly cold and distant, like he was talking to a complete stranger. He shifted a little bit so that his arm could snake back to his side, and he was quiet for a moment.

"I…" he began, letting that one word drip off his lips like poison. I was dying for him to go on. "I met someone, when I was gone."

I could literally feel myself grow cold. All of those comfortable things about him suddenly stung. The sharp smell of his skin pierced my nostrils; his wine-colored eyes were not sorry, they weren't even recognizable. I swallowed and carefully tried to toss the words out of my mouth.

"Is that… is that why you didn't come back?" I asked, hating the sound of my childish voice.

"Yeah," he replied, looking right past me.

"Hm."

My insides were screaming. Why wasn't I yelling at him? Why wasn't I storming out of the house, and never looking back? There was some sort of gravitational pull, and as much as I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, I still wanted to hold his hands in mine and forget about the whole thing.

"But I'm here now… aren't I?" he asked, voice hopeful. I stared down at my hands, half-nodding.

"Let's take a walk," I mumbled, standing from the couch. I needed answers. I needed _something_. He obliged, standing as well. As soon as we were outside, I sighed.

"… Where do you go, when you leave?"

The usual enjoyable sun was now harsh against his face. An interrogational spotlight.

"Home," he said.

And I had always thought that this place was his home.

"But why? I just don't understand," I asked, hoping that he would just come out with it.

"I… I don't know, don't you ever just get the feeling that you belong somewhere else?" he asked, almost pleading. "Don't you ever just want to… _leave_?"

"No," I replied simply, shoving my shaking hands into my overall pockets. "I could never leave this place."

The silence that followed was so hefty that I felt that I should say something, _anything _to break it. But when I opened my mouth, the only words that I could think of were too sentimental, too vulnerable to say aloud. I had to be strong about this. I couldn't just spout mushy, love-riddled sentences at him and hope he forgets all about this _home _of his. And the other girl.

"But, Ann, listen to me," he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. I could see his eyes fill with something unrecognizable; it caused the tremor in my limbs to cease. He took a step forward and grabbed my shoulders in his sand-dusted hands. "I came back, didn't I? I came back for you."

_For me._

Without thinking, I pressed my lips against his, something I would have never dared to do the years prior. He was unmoving for a moment, before his hands crawled from my shoulders to my back and he returned the kiss with fervor. My eyelids fell shut while his fingers twisted through my undone braid.

_He won't leave again,_ I thought to myself. _Not after this._

And I felt an elation that I hadn't felt in years.

The kiss ended almost as quickly as it began, but I wasn't unsatisfied. I opened my eyes to see his violet ones looking right back at me, smiling on their own. I smiled back.

"Stay with me tonight," I told him. "Like old times."

Memories of just a few years ago popped into my mind, when I would convince my dad to have him over for the night. Father always agreed, on the condition that he would sleep in the guest bedroom. That never stopped him from sneaking into my room at night so we could tell stories until we couldn't talk, and eventually fall asleep, entangled in each other for warmth.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'd like that."

I felt giddy, almost like a child when he dropped in later that night, right after dinner. He and my father exchanged pleasantries before my father headed to his own room, muttering that us kids 'don't have too much fun'.

But something was off. When we sat criss-cross-apple-sauce in my bed, clad in pajamas, he seemed so far away. When he was looking into my eyes, it felt more like he was looking past me. When he spoke, his voice was whispery and hoarse, that tone of voice I always hated.

But I brushed it off my shoulders when we finally settled under the covers to sleep. We couldn't be closer even if we tried; we were completely wrapped around each other like winter sweaters. This is when I dared to utter,

"What was her name?"

He shifted a little, and I opened my eyes to see his lips were pursed shut. I prayed that I hadn't upset him.

"Brooke… her name was Brooke."

I held on tighter, clinging to his skin with my fingers as if he was being ripped away from me. Moments passed, and nothing was said. I nestled my head close to his and I sighed, ready to fall into a deep sleep. Nose-to-nose, his breath was hot against my lips as he whispered,

"Goodnight, Ann. You deserve so much more than this."

His hand slithered its way up my neck and into my wild hair where it stayed, nestled in the curls. I was asleep in moments.

--

The sea was rough today. The clouds overhead blanketed the sky, and they seemed to grow darker with every passing minute. My heart thumped loudly while each crest of a wave came barreling downwards.

"Can we go?" I pleaded. He looked at me and smirked. It wasn't the one I was used to… it almost seemed malicious. And without a word, he ran towards the sea, laughing. "Wait! Come back, please?"

He didn't listen. The waves roared darkly and I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't. All I could see was his golden skin sparkling as the water rushed over him. I called again but I couldn't even hear my own voice over the bellowing sea.

He turned and stared at me, the twinkle in his eye long gone. _Don't you ever just want to… leave?_ The grin was washed away. _He _was washed away. I couldn't even hear my own screams.

--

I woke when the sun still hadn't crept its way back up the mountain and into the sky. I opened my eyes to see the blank ceiling above me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Just a dream.

"Kai," I breathed, closing my eyes again. When no response came, I continued, "I had a dream, that you were carried away by a wave."

Nothing.

It wasn't until I rolled over to wrap my arm around his chest when I realized he was gone.

**A/N: I'm sorry for the not-so-happy ending. Merry Christmas!**


End file.
